The Girl Across the Hall
by fashiongrrl
Summary: AU-Fantasy Spuffy (they're all human). Starts off in Fall 2004, somewhere in California. Med student Spike comes home to find Buffy, his neighbor from across the hall drunk and upset. Ah, the start to a beautiful friendship.
1. Prologue

_**The Girl Across the Hall**_

by: Fashiongrrl

_A/N:_ Yes, I'm terrible about leaving y'all hanging with my other stories. Finished up a test today, got inspired to write based on a conglomeration of recent muses. Anyways, enjoy!

_Summary:_ Starts off in Fall 2004, somewhere in California. Med student Spike comes home to find Buffy, his neighbor from across the hall drunk and upset. Ah, the start to a beautiful friendship.

_Rating: _PG-13

_Disclaimer: _None of the characters are mine obviously. I just like to play with them. I borrowed them from Joss. He doesn't mind.

_Dedication:_ This one is for W.

_Prologue_

11:30 pm. He hoisted his backpack over his shoulders and dragged himself towards the exit. He'd been in the hospital since 5:00 am, and he had to be back at 6:00 am the next morning. Six and a half hours to eat, attempt to study, and sleep - possibly not even in that order. He pulled his weary body off the elevator and trekked the four blocks to the darkened parking lot where students were forced to leave their rides. Hands fumbling in his pockets, he pulled out the keys to the DeSoto, threw himself into his car, gunned the engine and sped home. Hell, he could get pulled over by a cop, he could crash, he could fall asleep behind the wheel - but running on 3 hours of sleep, tired from constantly having to be on his toes, berated day in and day out by residents and attendings, Spike Giles didn't really seem to give a damn.

He pulled into his apartment parking lot, fingers mindlessly reaching to shut off a radio that was playing God only knew what at this hour, trying to remember the normally easy tasks he had to do to shut off a car. Spike ran down a mental checklist, knowing it was the only way to preserve his sanity at this hour. _Lights off, car in park, pull out key, get backpack, get out of car, close door, lock car, find bed._

Spike ran his hands through his platinum blonde hair, then wiped at his glasses as the elevator doors opened. Instead of a peaceful silence, the air was peppered by random sobs and moans as he made his way towards his door. Confused, he squinted and saw a shape huddled across from his apartment. Putting his glasses back on and letting his eyes adjust to the light, he saw the blonde girl from across the hall crumpled up in front of her door, lip-gloss slightly smudged, and the contents of her purse on the floor. Her hands tried aimlessly to find the keys that were only inches out of reach.

_And tell me why this isn't awkward?_ Spike thought to himself as he approached. From what little he knew of his neighbor, she had blonde hair, she was a 21 year old senior in college, and whenever her hulking mass of a boyfriend came over, their sexually charged screams and moans easily penetrated into the hallway. Sighing, he opened his mouth to speak.


	2. Doctoring

_The Girl Across the Hall_

by: Fashiongrrl

_Chapter 1: Doctoring_

"Um, hello?" he said, looking down, unsure of what to do. Well, he was sure that he wanted to open his door, run inside, and climb into his bed for a few hours of stolen sleep in the life of a med student. But apparently that wasn't going to happen, and it didn't seem like the polite thing to do at this hour.

"Hi," came the very pathetic and very drunk reply.

"Is everything all right?" Spike asked the girl.

"Hey! You talk funny!" she said, giggling and sobbing at the same time.

Spike nodded his head and without missing a beat he replied, "Yes, most people tell me that."

"Are you from South Africa? Dave Matthews is from there. Do you know him?" she mumbled.

"No, I'm English. But we talk funny too," Spike replied.

"Dave Matthew is a boy. Boys are stupid. Why are boys stupid?" the blonde said to no one in particular, a childish pout crossing her face.

"I think it's genetic?" was the best reply Spike could muster at this hour, trying to wrack his brain for her name. _Betty? Beth? Bertha?_ He chuckled silently at the last one, knowing full well it was wrong, but the name sounded hilarious to his sleep-deprived mind. "Um, Buffy?" he said, a little unsure.

She looked up, the hallway lights reflecting off her mascara and tear stained cheeks. She furrowed her brow and bit at her bottom lip, playing the same name game in her mind as Spike.

"Spike," he said, trying to alleviate her confusion. "Are you all right, luv?" he said, setting down his bag and kneeling beside her.

"Angel," Buffy sobbed.

"Yes, er... honey?" Spike quipped jokingly, hoping to quiet her sobs.

"Nooooo..." Buffy whined. "Angel, the ... jerk... no, the dumbass who was supposed to be my _one true love_," she said, sarcastically spinning the last few words. She leaned her head back against her door, licking her lips, trying desperately to remember where she was in her alcohol-induced haze. "Cordelia, the whore from ... Kappa Stupid Ugly!" She struggled to sit up, pulling her blonde hair from her eyes, before animatedly waving her arms around. "You date a guy for, like, 3 years, right?" she said, turning to look at Spike.

"Uh, yes," was all he could reply. But he had a distinct feeling he knew where this was going.

"He says he's studying for tomorrow's Sociology midterm. So you go over there to surprise him with take out because he's working so hard. Then you realize his door his locked, there's no Sociology final, and no frat brother in the fucking house will look you in the eyes," she spat out. She continued, mimicking Angel in that strange, falsetto voice women always use to mock a man, "Ooooh, Buuuuffffyyy, we're just frieeeeeeeendssssss, no worries, babe. She's my friend from classsssssss!" Buffy sat straight up and looked at Spike, "CLASS MY ASS!" she shouted, pounding the floor with her fist for emphasis.

"Hush now. You'll wake everyone up," Spike said worriedly, putting a hand on her arm. "C'mon now, luv. Let's get you inside. You look like you've had enough troubles for one night. No sense in getting the cops up here."

"Why? It doesn't matter anymore," Buffy sighed dramatically. "I don't care!"

Spike knew better than to argue with an inebriated person. He quickly put her things back into her purse, grabbed her keys, and put arm around her back, pulling her to her feet and supporting Buffy's weight. "Up you go, luv!" She moaned and buried her blonde head against her shoulder. Despite the smell of alcohol on her breath, he could still smell the faint scent of her strawberry shampoo. Unlocking her door, he pulled her inside and switched on the light.

"Oh no!" Buffy grimaced, making a face.

Spike knew that face all too well, having made it on several occasions before and having watched several of his patients make the very same face. He moved quickly, opening the door to what he hoped was the bathroom, and holding Buffy's head over the toilet just in time to see her empty what seemed like her entire gastrointestinal tract. Hot tears spilled down her cheeks as she gagged twice more, and then sat back on the floor sobbing. He flushed the toilet, and helped her to her feet once again. Spying a cup on the vanity, he filled it with water and held it to her mouth. "Sip and rinse," he instructed her. Luckily she was coherent enough to follow his commands, but the tears of shame and pain continued.

"I'm sorry! That was so gross!" she sobbed, embarrassed.

"It's all right, you can't help it. Don't worry, I'm an expert at holding back hair," he said trying to get a smile out of her.

At first she was confused, and then eyeing his blue-green hospital scrubs Buffy put two and two together. "Thank you," she said, smiling meekly.

"Do you think you can stand long enough to brush your teeth and put on your pajamas?" he asked, looking her over. Clearing her system of some of the toxins seemed to calm her down.

She nodded, brushing tears from her cheeks.

"Good girl, I'll be just outside if you need me." Spike found the kitchen and started examining the contents of her shelves, hoping to find something toward off a hangover. He settled on making her a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, hoping the carbohydrates would help blunt some of the effects of the alcohol, and pulled a bottle of water from the fridge. Not knowing the contents of her medicine cabinet, he quickly ran across the hall to his own apartment to find some multivitamins and Advil. He'd seen Tylenol in Buffy's cabinets, but knew full well that Tylenol and alcohol were the right prescription for liver damage.

Spike re-entered her apartment as Buffy was leaving the bathroom, clad in a pair of sky blue "Yummy Sushi!" pajamas. She seemed a little dizzy, but slightly improved from when he'd found her a half hour ago. "I threw up again," she frowned. "I hate throwing up."

"That's good, it means your body is trying to purge itself of all the alcohol. Um, do you have classes in the morning, luv?"

She shook her head, "I have Fridays off this semester... um, I think. Is today Thursday?"

"It's Friday now."

"Okay, I have Fridays off probably," she replied very absentmindedly. "But Angel has class on Fridays! But apparently not sociology," she said, a fresh stream of tears threatening to spill.

"Fridays off! Lucky! I remember those days in undergrad," he laughed quickly, hoping to distract her. He glanced at his watch. "Bloody hell, I've got to be back in the hospital in 5 and a half hours," he said to no one in particular.

It slowly dawned on Buffy that she was standing in the middle of her apartment, accepting help from an almost complete stranger who most likely had his own life to lead. It had also crossed her mind that he could be a psycho, serial killer, but he'd been so nice so far, she decided to take her chances. "I'm so sorry!" she whispered softly.

"It's all right," Spike said with a grin. "Taking care of sick people is my job. Come now, we've got to get something better in you ... ah, in your stomach ... er, what I mean is you should probably eat something before you go to bed. It'll help absorb the alcohol left in your stomach. Here," he said, trying to gloss over his Freudian slip as he handed her the sandwich he had made. He couldn't help it, with her makeup scrubbed off Buffy looked very pretty. He realized that wasn't the point at this hour, but he was male after all. Luckily she hadn't noticed him misspeak.

She accepted it gratefully as she sat down on the couch. Buffy picked at it, tearing it into small bites, but attempting to eat slowly. She heard his stomach rumble as he handed her a bottle of water. Buffy looked up at him, "You should eat something too. I'm sorry, you must be tired." Her speech was still a bit slurred, but her thoughts were starting to come together a little more.

"No thank you, it's all right. I'm fine," he said, being polite.

"Please? I don't want to eat alone," she said, looking up at him with big dewy green eyes.

"Thanks," he shrugged. Too tired to argue, he made himself a sandwich, and sat next to her. Finishing, he went to the counter to retrieve the Advil and vitamins.

"Are you allergic to any medicines?" he said, pointing to the bottle of Advil.

"No," she replied.

"How much did you drink?" Spike asked, before opening the bottle.

She looked up at him slightly embarrassed, "Two and a half beers."

"Two beers! You're a bloody lightweight!" he joked.

"And a half!" she added. "I don't drink very often," she mumbled.

Spike laughed despite himself. Here he was, exhausted, in the middle of some rather attractive girl's apartment, and he was still playing the doctor role. He and his friends joked constantly that basic medical questions were ingrained in them, and it was true. Once you got sucked in, you could never escape.

"Now, Buffy, you might have a nasty headache in the morning and I'm guessing your stomach may be upset. So, make sure you drink plenty of water. Finish that bottle and drink this one too," he said, handing her a second bottle. "Alcohol dehydrates. And here, take these and in the morning you'll be right as rain," he said, handing her a vitamin and two Advil. Judging by her size, he was sure 200 mg of ibuprofen would suffice normally, but in this case he was hoping the two tabs of Advil would stave off the headache. She'd sobered up to a decent extent after expelling the contents of her stomach, but the after effects of her intoxication might come back to get her in the morning.

"Are you a doctor or something?" she mumbled.

"You flatter me but I'm nowhere near that important. I'm a medical student," Spike said.

Buffy looked at him a moment, before shrugging and taking the pills. "Close enough."

"Will you be all right tonight?" he asked.

She shrugged, "Sure, why not. I've already made a fool out of myself, I don't think things can get any worse at this point."

"The important thing is that you're safe," Spike said, soothing her fears with a practiced voice. "Keep a bottle of water by your bed, and be sure you lock the door after me."

"Yes, _dad_," Buffy grinned.

"Hey, you never know what kind of beasties lurk out there," Spike joked, getting up to leave.

"Or what kind of nice people are out there," Buffy commented quietly. "Thank you."

"Not a problem," he said, making his way across the hall.

"I'll ... I'll see you around, um... Spike," Buffy said before shutting her door.

Spike just nodded as he shut his front door. Finding his way to his bedroom he collapsed in his bed. Glancing at the clock, it read 1 am. Normally an early bedtime for him, but late considering he was on an Ob/Gyn rotation, running himself ragged with the early and late hours. Only five more hours until it started all over again. He shut his eyes and curled up in a ball, hoping for his usual quick onset of sleep, but the last few thoughts flashing through his mind were of the blonde girl across the hall.


	3. Partying

_The Girl Across the Hall_

by: Fashiongrrl

_Chapter 2: Partying_

It had been nearly a week since Spike had seen Buffy. Delivering babies and doing surgeries kept him too busy to pay attention to his own life, let alone find time to see others. It was the most stressful year of school, except for all the others. Next year he'd have to concentrate on getting a residency and figuring out what career path to choose. The year after that would be his intern year, and there wouldn't be any time for fun then either. Spike's life was well mapped out from day to day, and unfortunately he didn't have control on more than 2 or 3 of those days every month. But that was the price to pay for doing something you loved and helping others.

He came home one night to find a note taped to his door and lots of noise coming from Buffy's apartment.

"Hi Spike!

I haven't seen you all week, I'm guessing you're probably very busy. I just wanted to say thanks for helping me out last week. If you get this message, I'm having a party tonight. Please come if you're free!

Buffy, from 1206"

He had to smirk at the last part. She lived across the hall, Spike was sure he could find it. Looking down at his normal hospital attire he figured he should probably throw on something more suitable. His plans for the evening had revolved around sleeping since he miraculously had the day off tomorrow, but when in Rome... He jumped in the shower for 5 minutes to try and wash the smell of hospital soap off. He relished being able to throw on something other than dress up clothes and reached for a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. If he had his way, he'd live in jeans and t-shirts like he had for most of his life since high school, but apparently that wasn't professional enough. There had been a time when he'd been forced to go to wear school uniforms, complete with matching ties and vests, and when his family moved to America he learned quickly that public high schools were no place for tweed suits.

Walking across the hall Spike rang Buffy's doorbell. The door opened to find a bubbly Buffy in a red tank top and a pair of jeans, her hair pulled back from her face on one side by a shiny red clip.

"Hey! You got my note!" she said smiling. "Come in!"

"Hi. Thanks for inviting me, I could use a night off," he said. Spike entered to find a room full of at least 20 people. "So what's with the shindig?"

"We're celebrating! This is my bestest friend in the entire world, Willow," Buffy said, putting her arm around the redhead standing next to her.

"Hi!" Willow said with a very shy wave.

"Ahem!" said a dark-haired boy as he stepped forward next to Buffy.

"Oh, and this is my other bestest friend in the whole world, Xander," Buffy continued, throwing an arm around him as well. "Willow just finished her medical school interviews and we're celebrating!"

"That and we're celebrating Buffy's new found freedom from Mr. Tall, Dark, and Forehead!" Xander said quietly to Spike.

"Angel?" Spike mouthed to Xander, a little confused. Xander nodded in response.

"Want a drink?" Buffy said, offering Spike a beer. He accepted gladly. Twisting off the top he took a large gulp.

"Spike goes to UCLA Med," Buffy offered, nodding in his direction.

"Really? Wow. Do you like it? What's it like?" Willow asked.

"Some days more than others. Right now the bloody hospital has made me its bitch, but otherwise it's not too bad. So you're applying, eh? I suppose congratulations are in order, Red! How many places did you apply?" Spike said, turning to Willow.

"Fifteen," Willow said. "Of course only 8 decided I was interviewing material, but who's counting?"

"Not too shabby. I applied to 20 and I got interviews at 5, and luckily - or maybe unluckily at this point - someone decided they wanted me," Spike laughed. "It's not easy to get in, but with 8 interviews I'm sure you've got a bloody good chance."

"Thanks!" Willow replied.

"I'm sure our Willow has a better chance than that," another British voice offered up. "Wesley Wyndham-Pryce," the voice continued, extending a hand in Spike's direction.

Spike looked up to find himself looking at a light-brown haired, bespectacled young man. He offered is hand in return, "Spike Giles."

"Manchester?" Wesley said, cocking his head to the side as he tried to place Spike's accent.

"Good guess. London?" Spike replied.

"You are correct," Wesley smiled.

"Ahhh, I see the boys who talk funny have met," Buffy said, entering the conversation.

"Talk funny? Hardly. It's your voice that sounds rather odd, my dear. You and your Yankee speak!" Wesley joked.

"Well I don't mind, I think it's cute," came from a dark-haired girl, her voice accented slightly with a Texan twang. She put her arm around Wesley and said, "Hi, I'm Fred."

"Nice to meet you, ducks," Spike replied.

"Spike I'm sorry, I haven't even bothered to introduce you to anyone. Hey room!" Buffy said, trying to get everyone's attention. "This is Spike, my neighbor from across the hall." Buffy proceeded to rattle off the names of her friends.

"And by Buffy's second beer, she won't remember a single one of those," Xander quipped.

"No way! Buffy and alcohol are decidedly unmixy tonight. I've got my one bottle of Bacardi Silver Raz, thank you very much," she said.

"Oh yeah, can't forget the 'Raz'," Xander said, tickling Buffy's side as he mocked her.

"Hey! Shut up!" Buffy laughed.

"Sweetie, there's nothing wrong with the 'Raz,' it's better than that cheap beer you normally drink down at my place," said a voice from the door. A brown-haired man in a brightly colored shirt walked in.

"Meet Lorne, our favorite bartender. He works at Caritas, a couple blocks away from campus. Fred used to waitress there," Xander offered.

"Mmm, Buffy who is this delicious dish? Do we have a new someone?" Lorne said.

"Lorne!" she laughed. "I'm sorry, ignore him," she said, turning to Spike. "Spike's a new _friend_. He lives across the hall in 1207."

Spike really hadn't thought of Buffy very much over the past week, but now that he saw her again a fleeting attraction raced through his mind. He couldn't help it, honestly every new member of the opposite sex he ran across had some potential in his mind. All of his friends were getting engaged or married, and Spike had been single for 2 years now. His ex-girlfriend Drusilla had made certain that his first year of medical school was going to be a living hell. She kept their relationship on a yo-yo, calling things on and off as she pleased until he finally put his foot down and said that if she didn't want to treat him with respect, she should sod off. That did the trick and he rarely heard from her afterwards.

After meeting Buffy in the condition she was in last week, it seemed wrong to think about her as someone to pursue, but then again opportunities weren't presenting themselves left and right. There were no girls clamoring at his door, but not so oddly enough there were several female and male nurses who took a chance to flirt with him whenever possible. He did cut an attractive figure, tall, blonde spikey hair, shocking blue eyes, and he obviously worked out as was noted by his arms sticking out from short-sleeved scrub tops. There was even one older patient who'd seized the opportunity to grab Spike's backside as he walked past in the ER one day and said, "I want that doctor to treat me!" He'd been so shocked but couldn't help laughing at the memory.

Buffy's light words left him slightly jolted inside. But he shook it off realizing he was talking about someone who had just broken up with a boyfriend, someone who was at least 5 years younger than him, and someone who lived in his building. And after all, he liked Buffy. Maybe not necessarily "like-like" as people used to say when they were kids, she just seemed like a nice person. Spike had time for a new friend at the moment, and realistically nothing more.

"Oh, just a friend! Tell me, why do they call you Spike?" Lorne said, flirting with Spike and letting his gaze start to wander south. Lorne was only joking, his "gaydar" letting him know Spike was into girls. But he loved having his fun.

Spike laughed knowing Lorne's game was all in good fun, "I've got a fetish for spike heels," he winked.

"Mmm, racy!" Lorne said, as another party go-er grabbed him and wheeled Lorne onto the makeshift dancefloor created by pushing Buffy's dining table up against a wall. Usher's "Yeah" pumped out from Buffy's speakers and the room was lost in chaos dancing to last summer's number one jam.

A few hours later the party began to wind down, and Buffy's guests thanked her, congratulated Willow once again and filtered out the door. Spike, Xander, and Willow helped Buffy clean up. With the four of them it didn't take very long and soon Willow and Xander were on their way out the door as well. They hugged and Buffy told her friends she'd see them later that weekend.

Buffy turned to Spike as he got up to leave, "Um, listen Spike. About the other night... thanks. I really appreciated it. I was in kind of a bad place. Okay, a really bad place, and..." Buffy said as she sat down on the couch.

"No explanation necessary, luv. We've all been there at one point," he said, sitting back down.

"That was just really nice of you to help me out, someone you barely even know."

"It's nothing, ducks. I live my life hoping that if I can do something good and help out someone, that someone out there will be equally good and help out someone I love when they're in trouble. It's all about good karma," Spike replied.

"Wow... that's deep," Buffy said, not knowing what else to say.

"Not really. It's just about doing what's right. By the way, bloody good party. I haven't had a chance to relax in weeks!"

"Thanks! It just seemed like a good time for some fun," she said.

"How's everything been since..." Spike trailed off.

"Some days are good and some days are bad. It's only been a week. He tried to call a few times but I told him to just leave me alone because I wasn't ready to talk. He might be a total skeeze, but at least he's willing to give me some space. I think he got the message after I kept hanging up on him and avoiding him at school. Something about Buffy's patented 'death stare' as Willow calls it," Buffy said, wringing her hands together and staring at the floor.

"I'm not going to lie. It's hell at first, but it gets better. Trust me, it gets better," Spike offered, putting a hand on Buffy's shoulder.

"Thanks," she said, looking up at him.

"Your friends seem like really nice people," he said, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, they're the best. Will and Xand have been great all week. And I'm sorry about Lorne, he means well," she said.

"Don't be, he's bloody hilarious! That's bloke all right by me," Spike replied.

"You know," she said, running a hand through her hair. "It never really occurred to me that your name is probably something other than Spike! I mean, I just can't see a Dr. Spike running around the hospital."

"My real name is a secret that dies with me," he laughed.

"Oh come on! Tell me!" Buffy whined.

"Is Buffy short for something?" Spike asked.

"Being avoidy won't help! It can't be that bad!" Buffy said, hands on her hips.

Spike sighed, looking upwards. He smiled and said, "Fine. William Giles."

"Thank you, what that so hard? And Buffy isn't short for anything. My mom was just... in a phase. She wasn't quite ready to let go of the 70s when I was born," Buffy said, rolling her eyes.

Spike shrugged. "It suits you."

"Thanks. But why the name 'Spike?'" Buffy continued.

"Remnant of a former life, I guess," Spike said, glancing over at his new friend. She was facing him, arm on the couch, head on her arm, and a strand of blonde hair escaping from the clip.

"Former life?" Buffy looked at him, raising an eyebrow in disbelief.

"All right, it's the hair. I dyed it blonde and spiked it up in high school. I was going through a rebel phase and trying to royally piss off my dad. It worked. One day, I was being a smartass in one of my classes and a teacher called me out on it. He said something to the extent of 'Excuse me, Mr. Spikey, do you have something to add to the class?' and the name Spike stuck." He glanced over at Buffy.

"That's not a bad story," Buffy said. She stretched her arms up towards the ceiling and yawned. "Mmm, sorry. I didn't realize how late it was."

Spike yawned as well. "It's all right, time for me to throw myself into bed. I haven't had a day off in weeks. I think I'm going to sleep like the dead. Thanks for a damn good time!"

"Not a problem," she said, walking him to the door.

"Good night," he said.

"Hey Spike, are you doing anything tomorrow? A couple of us are going to the movies..." Buffy trailed off, slightly hopeful.

"I'd love to but I've got study all day tomorrow. We've got a test in a week, and I haven't had a chance to open my books much. I'm sorry," he replied.

"Oh, it's okay! No big deal. Maybe some other time," Buffy said.

"Sure. 'Night!" Spike replied.

"Good night!" Buffy replied. She closed the door and leaned against it, closing her eyes and shaking her head. _Get a grip, Buffy!_ she thought. _It's been a week since you broke up with Angel. No time for rebound boys, even if he is really cute... Rebounding equals much badness. Oh well, at least he's fun to hang out with._ But as she climbed into bed, this time it was Buffy's thoughts that wondered to the blonde across the hall.

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**_A/N_**_: The butt-grabbing incident actually happened to one of my residents. He told us the story, and by looking at him it's pretty apparent that he's a total hottie. Hilarious! And I'm so sorry to everyone's whose stories I've fallen out of touch with. I've meant to read but it's been such a busy year - ie, as that third year med student - that it's going to be a long while before I can catch up with any spuffy fiction. Sigh..._


	4. Chatting

_A/N: Thanks to all you lovely people who reviewed! And thanks to all you lovely people who stopped by to read even if you didn't review. I appreciate it:) This story is coming easily and for some reason is just writing itself. Btw, the hospital isn't as bad as it seems. It's the hours that are long and sometimes people can be a little mean, but it's understandable with a high stress job. I know S/B stories usually involve them at each other's throats, but this one is inspired by recent interactions I've had with some really nice people and some old friends I'd lost touch with coming back into my life as better friends. Hence the whole friendship aspect to the story. But since it's S/B and I'm a total Spuffy shipper, there's always some salty goodness underfoot, otherwise what fun would this be!_

_I've been good with updates because this was my weekend off (between rotations... switching from Neurology to Family Practice). I warn you that I might be very bad with updates in the next month only for lack of time not for lack of inspiration. I hope I'll have a chance to write more and finish this fic up rather quickly (well quicker than my others), but I sincerely apologize if updates are a little slower after this chapter. (Oh and no offense to any residents, nurses, attendings, or anyone else in the medical field who Spike rags on. It's the life.)_

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_**The Girl Across the Hall**_

by: Fashiongrrl

_Chapter 3: Chatting_

Spike trudged out of the elevator, post-call from a hectic night in the hospital. His arms were full of books, his overnight bag, a backpack, his white coat, his house keys dangling precariously from one finger, and the apple he was trying to wolf down in the car wedged in his mouth. Dead tired he found his way to his front door, trying to balance all the items in his hands and get a grip on his key at the same time. He was tired, he was cranky, he had a test in three days, and he really needed get a lot of studying done. Spike felt his grip slipping on his bag and all of a sudden everything tumbled out of his items.

It wouldn't have been so bad had the contents of his backpack gone flying across the hallway. It really wouldn't have been so bad had he been in a good mood actually. In fact, it really wouldn't have been so bad had he managed to get some sleep last night, not had to worry about doing magnesium checks every four hours on his possibly pre-eclamptic patient on the Labor and Delivery suite, not been told by a resident that he needed to read more even though his books were open in front of him, and actually had some time to eat dinner the night before. No, if not for all that, it really wouldn't have been such a bad situation had Spike not been stressed beyond belief.

But it was.

"BLOODY HELL! STUPID FUCKING BAG! BLOODY TEST! WHO THE BLOODY HELL CARES ABOUT THIS STUPID FUCKING ROTATION! I WANT TO BE A BLOODY CARDIOTHORACIC SURGEON NOT AN OB/GYN! IS IT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR THREE HOURS OF SLEEP WHEN YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A PATIENT WHO'S ABOUT TO DELIVER?" he began to shout.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder and he spun around, breath coming out in ragged gasps, ready to scream at whoever had intruded on his rant.

"Hey! What's with the yelling?" Buffy said, smiling. She looked colorful in a green off-the-shoulder t-shirt, jeans, and a silky green, gold, and purple scarf tied around her hair. Silver hoop earrings and flip-flops completed the outfit.

"Oh... uh, you heard that?" Spike replied sheepishly. When he was tired his emotions tended to run all over the board.

"I think everything in California heard it, but lucky for you it's only 2 pm," Buffy said. "Long day?"

"Try long 20 or 30 something hours. I've lost count," Spike grunted as he opened his door. He bent down to start retrieving his things and pushed them into his front hallway.

Buffy chased down a few of his textbooks that had made their way down the hall. "I'm sorry, doesn't sound like you had much fun! You okay?" she said, handing him his things.

"Yeah, just tired. Wait, why are you... oh I forget. Undergrad classes aren't scheduled back to back," he said, answering his own question.

"So I'm guessing I shouldn't taunt you with the fact that I'm done for the day, should I, Spike?" she grinned.

"No, it's all right, pet. I'm done for the day too, but the test is in three days. I'm just under a little pressure," Spike replied.

"A little? Stressed much?" Buffy said, gesturing to the death grip Spike had taken on his books. His veins stood out against his muscular arms.

He glanced down and smiled, relaxing a little. "Yeah, a little." He sighed and continued, "Bloody long night, lots of patients to take care of, and the worst part is that you feel helpless. I mean it's not like I can actually prescribe anything or know any real life saving maneuvers at this point. I just stand around looking..."

"Cute?" Buffy offered.

Spike grinned, "Always. But really, a lot of my job involves sitting and waiting until a resident tells me what to do. But it pisses me off when they're off doing something that I'm supposed to be observing, but no one tells me I'm not where I should have been. The wankers expect you to read their bloody minds half the time."

"That sucks," Buffy could only reply, not knowing how he felt.

He rolled his eyes at his own melodramatics, "Perhaps I'm being a bit unfair. Labor and Delivery is a busy service with expecting mothers that need a lot of care, and a lot of that care ends up being urgent when a delivery is imminent."

"I would imagine so, especially when you're trying to push something the size of a basketball out of you," Buffy said. "Thank God you're not a woman."

"Ugh," Spike grimaced. "I think I don't want to look at another bird after all the vaginas I've got to look at every day."

"Hey! We're not so bad," Buffy said, punching him lightly in the arm.

"Sorry," he laughed.

"Well, Lorne is still single... or at least I think he is this week," Buffy laughed.

"Be still my heart," Spike laughed.

"Hey, don't joke. If I gave him your number he'd be all over you in a heartbeat!" Buffy said.

"Mmm, I'll have to think about that since I'm lacking prospects at the moment," Spike replied.

"Prospects? Are you on the hunt or something?" Buffy teased.

"School leaves little time for a social life, it's a wonder how some of my friends stay married since they rarely see their spouses this year," Spike commented. "It's the lifestyle we lead, no worries," he shrugged.

"I wish I was that busy. Leaves less time in the day to think about how much life sucks," Buffy said.

"What's your major?"

"Art history. Kind of seemed inevitable," she shrugged, looking at him. "My mom runs a gallery in my hometown. I used to help her on weekends. At first I thought it was really boring, but somewhere along the way I started to love it."

"Where's home?"

"Sunnydale, it's a little town a couple hours south of LA."

"Sunnydale? I've got a classmate from there. Dan Osbourne?" Spike asked.

"Oz! You're kidding me. Oz went to med school? Wow, he barely passed high school!" Buffy said. "He was a couple years ahead of us. He and Willow dated briefly. All I remember about Oz is that he was in a band called the Dingoes Ate My Baby and he never said more than three words in conversation."

"Yeah, Dan's mother passed away from breast cancer when he was in college. Kind of had to change his focus on life. Decided that medical school would help him work out his frustrations in life and help him make a difference," Spike finished.

"My God. I had no idea, I'm so sorry," Buffy said solemnly, putting a hand over her mouth.

"It's all right, bad things end up happening to good people. You didn't know."

"But still..."

"Buffy, honestly, don't worry. You didn't know," he reassured her.

She nodded in response.

Spike glanced at the floor, his forgotten and half-eaten apple at his foot. He picked it up, took one look at it and said, "Ah well, there goes lunch. I'm sorry, I've got to run. Studying."

Buffy looked at him and laughed, "You're kidding right?"

"Afraid not, pet. No time to worry about food. No time to sleep either," he said.

"Being busy is no excuse! Go get changed and come over to my place in five minutes," she commanded.

"No really, I couldn't. I'll be fine," Spike said.

"No you won't be. I can hear your stomach grumbling. Friends take care of each other when someone's got a project or something coming up. Willow and I always get stressed and between the two of us someone always forgets to eat. Usually it's Willow. She's all big with the braininess and stuff. And I just got groceries," Buffy said, pointing to the bags she'd set down when she came upstairs. "You have no excuse!"

Spike glanced at Buffy, took in her serious face, and no-nonsense tone and knew he couldn't argue. "Fine," he sighed. "You're too nice."

"I'm not as nice as you. You spend all day taking care of other people's problems, someone's got to take care of you!" Buffy said as she turned and entered her apartment. "See you in a few!"

Spike shook his head as he went into his own apartment. It was the strangest thing in the world, being friends with someone who was so outside his everyday realm of medicine. Life was always moving at light-speed for him, and to slow down and be reminded that other people existed was always a strange experience.

What was stranger still was that Spike was developing a soft spot in his heart for Buffy. If he'd met her at a club, chances are he'd be more than willing to ask her out. Especially had it been a few years ago when he was a little less mature. But considering the circumstances under which they met and considering that for some reason he ended up evolving into a redeemable guy, Spike was content to be in Buffy's company.

It had been quite a while since he'd had any semblance of friendship. Everyone around him was so busy, time left to see friends was few and far between. Most precious free time was taken sleeping or cleaning his place or running errands. It was amazing that even though he saw patients every single day and interacted with doctors and nurses every moment, he still longed for some human contact. He didn't have to be on point around Buffy, there was little talk of school, and she wasn't actually expecting anything from him. It was almost refreshing. _If only she wasn't so damn hot, _Spike thought to himself with a laugh. _Bloody hell, when did I turn into such a ponce?_ he laughed. But that was a question better left to be answered some other day.


End file.
